


Syrup

by entanglednow



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is is syrup</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syrup

"Jack get your fingers out of the maple syrup," the Doctor chastises from under the console. Though how he even knows what Jack is doing is a mystery. Jack is starting to suspect the Tardis is sharing his secrets.

"Do you have any idea how tempting this is?"

He doesn't entirely mean the sticky golden confection either, because the view he has is pretty...well it's pretty. It's very pretty. The Doctor's shirt and waistcoat have slithered up in his enthusiasm, and now every time he attempts anything even slightly strenuous there's a bare and very distracting curve of skin.

"I'm using it to lubricate the crystals, they like the sugar."

"Could you not use the term 'lubricate' in a sentence while still expecting me to help you in any sort of intelligent way?"

"I thought you loved to protest that you're more than just your hormones?"

Jack considers his view. "Yeah, about that, I think someone ratted me out to the universe."

The Doctor makes an unimpressed noise, does something that makes the hollow of his stomach do very interesting things.

"Is there the slightest chance I could get away with painting you with maple syrup?"

There's quickly stifled laughter and something sparks, but it's not a 'no.' Jack is encouraged by the fact that it's not a 'no.' He puts his fingers back into the bowl and once they're sufficiently sticky he leaves a trail across the twitching skin of the Doctor's stomach.

"If that gets on my shirt -"

Jack remedies that by opening both shirt and waistcoat as far as the Doctor's reaching arms will allow and then there's just skin. Sweet and sticky smooth under Jack's tongue, giving on every long slide.

Something sparks under the console again, but there's no great rush to make it stop. Jack suspects he has officially become 'a distraction' which he can't help but not be sorry about at all. He chases the curling trail lower, over the sharp curve of a hipbone, tongue recklessly sliding beneath the waist of the Doctor's pinstripe trousers. There's a very long pause which seems to be considering, then what Jack is pushed to describe as an exhale of surrender.

"You're going to get my trousers sticky."

And of course Jack can help with that, fingers catching on the sharp button, he's nothing if not considerate.


End file.
